Emolyn described Constantinople, with its splendid seraglio, its magnificent mosques, its squalid streets and mean dwellings. “Seems to me there’s as much dif’rence between the rich and the poor in pagan cities as there be in Christian towns.” “Just as much,” said Emolyn with a sigh; and then she continued—“From Turkey we went to Greece and to the Ionian Islands, where we spent the second winter of our travels. In the spring we returned to the United States because I had come of age and it was necessary for certain legal forms to be observed by my guardian in turning over my estates to me. We reached New York about the middle of May, and went down to Wynde Slopes in Maryland. But, oh, my dear friend, I was scarcely put in possession of my property before I lost my beloved guardian and last remaining friend. He passed away at Wynde Slopes after a short and painless illness, and it is my comfort to think he entered at once into his eternal rest. You know, by the terms of my father’s will, I was to be considered of age at eighteen. I was but a few weeks over that age when my dear guardian left me.” “Oh, Miss Emolyn! He was a good man. I heard from Pony of all his devotion to you while you were in your trouble. Do go on, Miss Emolyn, and excuse my interrupting of you.” “Well, my dear Susan, what I have to tell you now cannot be dwelt upon in detail. I sold Wynde Slopes, for I could not bear that my name, all blurred as it was with falsehood and wrong, should remain connected with my father’s old ancestral home.” “But however came you to find out about this beautiful island, honey?” Emolyn smiled. “It was not a beautiful island when I found it, Susan; but the way was this: In my restlessness I was a rambler. I had besides a feeling of affectionate curiosity to see the old Wilderness manor-house, in which my mother had been born and been brought up. I came to Greyrock, accompanied by Pony, and rode over to the Wilderness. I saw the house. It had long been vacant, the master being then in Europe. I did not divulge my name to the old servants, nor my relationship to their master; yet, with the courtesy they always show to strangers, they took me all over the premises, showed me all I wished to see, told me all I wished to hear. I returned to Greyrock that night. I had intended to leave the place early the next morning; but both in going to and coming from the Wilderness I had taken the river road, and seen from its banks the desolate, rocky island. It took my fancy and haunted me even after I had gone home to Greyrock and gone to bed.” “And so you thought you would like to make that desert bloom and blossom as the rose, Miss Emolyn?”